3rd October 2004

What is it about dog owners that renders them incapable of keeping their pets under control? Why is it that when I go for a simple stroll in the park I’m set upon by various breeds, sniffing, yapping, nipping at my heels while their owners stand twenty feet away meekly calling, "Fluffy! (WHISTLE) Here boy!" and then, on seeing my dirty look, have the gall to say, "he’s just being friendly"

This morning was the clincher, when a dog (I don’t know the breed, one of those ugly ones, not that it narrows it down much) pulled away from its owner’s lead and lunged straight for me, sinking its teeth into me. The bite wound is only superficial, but still… I can do without this on a Sunday morning, really.

To be fair, his owner wrestled the dog away and apologised profusely, which just about stopped me from unleashing an uncharacteristic torrent of verbal abuse.

My message to all dog owners: if you want an uncontrollable creature who makes a mess all over everything, get rid of the dog and have children instead. It’s much safer for other people.

4th October 2004

There’s a neglected folder on my computer containing a load of half-finished comedy scripts I was working on. Well, four scripts to be exact. All of them stop at the midway point, the moment where the Voice of Self-Doubt starts shouting, “this is rubbish!” and I give up. Then procrastination took over and they sat untouched for ages.

I used to love writing. Back in primary school my teachers used to dread asking the class to write something, because inevitably I would hand in a 20-page stream of consciousness. “Write a story about a dog,” they said: my dog ended up on Mars in a flying shoebox. At some point, however, things changed. Voice of Self Doubt grew louder and louder, and I pretty much stopped writing anything. Unless you count FABland, which I don’t any more.Read the rest of this post »

11th October 2004

I’m a magnet for inebriated men, apparently. Tonight two such men got on the train and out of all the empty seats available, naturally chose the ones right next to me. They weren’t scary-drunk, just annoying-drunk. Like when your uncle gets drunk at a Christmas party.

But I still had to endure a 15-minute journey, staring out of the window to avoid eye contact with a toothless old man slurring, “Is your name Jimmy? Is it? Aren’t you talking to me?”

14th October 2004

I was feeling quite cheerful last week, having obtained my copy of Little Britain series 1 two days before the official release date. Well, my satisfaction was short-lived.

Disc 2 is faulty. Just as Kenny Craig was trying to hypnotise a car boot sale punter into buying Paul Merton’s remake of The Blood Donor, the disc abruptly stopped, jumped a couple of times, and then gave up entirely.

And now I have to phone up to get a return authorisation, and they’ll probably put me on hold for ages which will cost a fortune (I’ll get round that one by phoning from work) and I’ll have to post it back which is just a lot of hassle that I don’t want to be dealing with, really.

Liverpudlians do not wallow in self-pity. Liverpool is a big (OK, medium-sized) city with a sense of community that is rarely seen outside tiny villages, and is hence difficult to comprehend for people who have not experienced this before. However, this community spirit is one of the great strengths of the city and definitely not a negative quality as many in the media seem to make out.

19th October 2004

Star sighting of the week: Pete Price standing on the little circular bandstand thing outside Dixons in Church Street, animatedly talking to a news camera crew, presumably about the whole Boris thing.

I still don’t understand what Boris Johnson is actually going to do when he comes up here to apologise. I’ve heard nothing about press interviews, meetings with local officials or anything like that. Is he going to just stand in the street and yell, "I’m sorry"?

Personally, having had time to reflect, I think we’re being too hard on him; he didn’t actually write the article in question and he’s already written a grovelling letter to the Daily Post.

My all time record for star spotting is still seeing someone who might have been Sinbad from Brookside in WHSmith once.

31st October 2004

How did everybody in the IT industry fall asleep and permit Microsoft to become the dominant power in the computer world?

Ludicrous security holes, an e-mail client which cheerfully executes random code, a default browser which will unquestioningly attempt to install “precision time and date manager” without warning you that it is spyware which will pop up hundreds of ads for porn sites per second. And that’s just the beginning.

What about the manual that is paper thin and doesn’t even begin to cover the basics of using the damn thing, so that anyone who isn’t already computer-literate will have to trek down to WHSmith to buy a 500-page “Windows for Dummies” book just to have the faintest hope of knowing what the hell is going on.Read the rest of this post »